Fixing Inquisitra
IHQ Med Bay The new Med Bay is large enough to house all the wounded that could result from battles against the Autobots. Near the entrance, there are a series of benches for patients awaiting treatment. Advanced medtables line the sides of the room in symmetrical rows while surgery is located within the central area. In the ceiling are several crane mechanisms to assist medics in moving larger Decepticons, each one highly articulated and built to withstand the strain of lifting even Devastator. The room's floor, walls, and ceiling are fitted with forceshield generators to contain those that are too injured to return to duty, possible contaminants, and also are set to automatically engage to protect the room from combat damage. The room is immaculately clean, carries a glossy shine, and always smells of disinfectants, giving off the air of a proper medical bay. To the rear are the airlock doors that lead to the Laboratory. Contents: Hook Inquisitra Long Haul Gumby Medic Med-Comm Medical Rules Obvious exits: East leads to IHQ Laboratory. West leads to IHQ Central Chamber. Long Haul tenses up as he prepares to get into an all-out bicker-match with his brother, then pauses and glances over, head tilted at a quizzical angle, as Hook trails off. What could be more important than arguing with /him/? Oh, wait, that Inquistitra gal whom they saved, and who then thanked them so /wonderfully/. Well, that's an understandable distraction. The transporter returns to his paperwork, marking a requisition approved THAT SOMEONE ELSE WILL HAVE TO HAUL, and then going on to the next one. "We have performed a self-diagnostic," Inquisitra retorts to Hook, "And Our systems are fine. Really, we're flattered by your concern." She strides on in, deeper; even if there's no one to repair, there are minds to pick. Or not, from what she recalls of the Constructicons. Dimwits, rags on sticks...Bah. "What's dumpy over there doing? Connect the dots?" "Self diagnostic?" Hook takes a medscanner from subspace. "Tsk. That's not an in-depth analysis. And since you're not Medical, Science, OR Engineering, it's not with much at all." He waves the medscanner at Inquisitra. "Dumpy? I'm afraid there's no-one on the roster with that callsign, Inquisitra. Perhaps there's some memory damage as well?" Hook pulls out a medical scanner and runs a check on Inquisitra. Long Haul clenches his hands into fists, then unclenches them. No no... fighting this one outside the training room would be /infighting/, and besides, he's on light limited... wouldn't want to do anything to keep his upgrade from taking. So after keeping himself still a moment he takes another sip of his drink before grumbling, "If you can't recognize Imperial requisitions paperwork, I ain' explainin' it to ya." Scrapper enters the medbay, because honestly, that's probably where he's supposed to be. Maybe he's got shift or something. Now, he was hoping, in a dull sort of way, to get some work done on that tank, er, water storage device, but it seems MSEers aren't the only ones in this medbay. Hey, there's Inquisitra, who threatened Devastator and made that *wonderful* report! That's just downright spiffy. Inquisitra swats with her hands as if intending to keep Hook and that pesky scanner thing away, "Our systems are fine, Hook, now gettaway. We're in as good a shape now as we were when we left." she loks toward Long Haul, "We do apologize, Long Haul, We meant nothing. It's just that We have not been subjected to desk work...Galvatron and the rest of High Command trust -us- enough to assign us to the field." she folds her arms proudly over her chest and announces in general. "Starting tomorrow, We are on the lookout for Autobot victims." All right! That's it! Long Haul spins his chair around and lunges out of it. No, no. Strike that. He begins what looks to be a very impressive lunge, but between being tangled up in the chair and tripping up on his own feet, only manages to fall forward hard with a resounding >CLANG!< The transporter takes a moment to clear his head before pushing himself back up. "DAMMIT, Scrapper! What kinda /upgrade/ didja give me?" Hook nods calmly, as if humoring Inquisitra, as his medscanner processes the data. "They are? That's wonderful." He taps at his medscanner, changing a few details here and there. "Oooh.." he says, suddenly frowning. I don't like the look of these readings" He looks up at Inquisitra. "I can understand why you might /think/ you're okay, but.. well..." He shakes his head sadly. "So I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. And since /I/ outrank you AS WELL as being a fully qualified member of MSE, /You/ will comply." The lizard-like smile scuttles across his face again. "After all, you want to be bright and chipper for your victim shopping tomorrow, hmmm?" He glances at Scrapper as Long Haul makes a scene. Scrapper is distracted by the clatter of a falling dump truckcon, and stares down at Long Haul. He places on hand on his hip and suggests, "Well, you are a bit slow, as you said... it may be that your systems are taking a while to assimilate the new drivers and are trying to operate within the specifications of the old parts and thereby under or overextending themselves." If only Inquisitra weren't so easily amused. She makes no secret of her giggling and laughing at poor Long Haul's misfortune. But if Primus didn't want us laughing at other peoples' misfortune, he wouldn't have made it funny. So she cracks up, and remarks to Hook, "But We're mostly Quintesson technology, kind of. We assure you, we're fine. We don't trust you any further than we could throw you. Construction work, you know...Shakey hands, bad construction. Besides, if you do mess us up, Galvatron will be quite unhappy. He's already got our mission lined up, and if it fails, well. He'll have to take it out on -someone-, and if I'm in pieces..." Only a tightness around his optics and the clenching of his hands around the medscanner betrays Hook's anger. He's trying reeeeeaaaal hard not to haul off and kill the femme. Yet. "Why Inquistra.." Hook replies. "You wound me with your mistrust, and it also appears your audials are malfunctioning, because I'm fairly sure I gave you an order.../Trainee/." He pauses, savouring the word as a balm to his fury. "Because that /is/ your current rank, is it not? So unless you get on that table in five astroseconds, /Trainee/, I shall have you brigged. By force if necessary. Have I made myself clear?" Long Haul looks up at Scrapper a bit blankly, not sure whether his brother just insulted him or not... but he does know for certain that Inquisitra just insulted the whole lot of them. The Constructicon pushes himself off the floor a bit more carefully now (a delay that works nicely to keep the homicidal urges at bay for the moment). He's about to add something when Hook speaks up instead (putting things better than he could, anyway) so instead he... walks over to the door, crosses his arm, spreads his legs, lowers his head in the fashion of a bull about to charge, and... watches. Oh, yes. Big, tough thug is a role he can play /very/ well. Scrapper paces over to Long Haul. He doesn't try to help up his brother, but he does look at him consideringly. Then, the High Command divisional liaison to MSE - yes, that is his rank now, Primus knows why - stares over at Inquisitra and can't help a quiet curse. Smelt it all to the pit! Why is it that the stupid fliers who accuse the Constructicons of shoddy craftmanship are the fliers who have an in with Big Purple? *Why?* Scrapper sighs and narrows his optic band and inquires of Hook, "Is the trainee giving you trouble, brother?" Inquisitra takes a few steps back away from the Constructicons. Granted, 'back' is indeed toward the tabley thing, "The 'Trainee'," she replies, making little quotation marks with her fingers, "Was the head of Decepticon Intelligence before she, uh, " more quotation marks, "'Mysteriously vanished into thin air' three years ago. We are -not- new, and We were simply removed from the databases because We were presumed Missing in Action." Well, that's mostly true. She was XO of DCI at one point, and her last assignment was as an Ambassador of sorts. To the militants. Then she just up and vanished. "It is not Our fault you Constructicons are so moody because Devastator didn't get to crush anything except a poor, defenseless shuttle. We would gladly give you a city to smash, if we had one to give." Hook looks at Scrapper. "Just refusing to obey an order, refusing to have a full system scan done," he remarks. "Extremely suspicious behaviour." He turns back to Inquisitra as she speaks. "Oh, I know," Hook replies, optics flashing briefly. "But right here, right now, you "Inquisitra" (question mark hands) "...are not even a "grunt". Due to Lord Galvatron's "overhaul" of the "rank system" - done while YOU were "Missing In Action" (and Hook carefully makes the question marks each time) "..you are a "Trainee". So "get" on the "table" or you will be "brigged", or failing that, "shot"." Wrong thing to say, Inquisitra. Wrong thing to say, indeed. Right now, there's only one city the Constructicons would really care to smash, and that would be the one that so recently smashed their own city. Long Haul cannot contain a growl at Inquisitra's words. Poor Haul, to have been made with such easily pressable buttons. Still, he manages to remain in place, shuffling back and forth restlessly as he watches his brothers work. Scrapper sees red, made all the easier by his already red visor. City to smash. Smashed cities. Ow, did she have to remind him that beautiful New Crystal City lies in ruins, slain by that monster Metroplex? His fists clench reflexively, and he hisses, "Times change. Why, in the blink of an optic, technology advances like you wouldn't believe," which explains why there's an antiquated cathode ray tube in that terminal over there, "and you're most likely due for retraining, having been 'out of it', as it were. In fact, Trainee, until you are properly retrained, I'm suspending you from repair duties. Wouldn't want you to put some surly tankcon's arm on backwards just because you're not up on the current medical standards. Oh and, do as Hook says." Inquisitra grumbles mightily, and grumpily takes her spot on the medical table, "Fine, fine, as you command, -Commander- Scrapper," she grumbles, "But it's a waste of time and you all know it. Why take it out on -Us-, anyway? Devastator did it, and you know he did. Not that We don't appreciate not falling to a firey death and all, but We're still plenty bitter about the fact that no one came for Us for -three- Earth years. Did no one even notice We were missing? How would -you- feel if you had been in Our place? Hmm? If Long Haul is miserable watching other haulers have all -his- fun, imagine being out there in space and not a thing in sight for you to wreck. Puh." and on and on she goes, grumbling about how much things suck and it's not her fault. "Honestly Inquisitra? You're just not that important." Hook replies, moving to a terminal and tapping a few buttons, the security forcefields springing up at the same time a large scanning unit descends from the ceiling. "Here, take a look at the preliminary scan" he says to Scrapper, handing him his medscanner. It's blatantly obvious that several details have been changed to values like 'Flagrant System Error' and 'Virus - Very Yes'. "I don't need to tell you, it doesn't look good." There's a loud humming sound as the scanner goes to work, a beam of green light sweeping over Inquisitra's form. Long Haul stares blankly at the female. Well, he doesn't have a face to begin with, but still, there's something rather baffled about his stance. 'If Long Haul is miserable watching other haulers have all -his- fun'? Whu-huh? Finally he just shakes his head and recrosses his arms, remaining at his position near the door. "You just doan' gedit, do ya?" he murmurs, almost more amazed than angry at this point. If Bonecrusher was here, he'd probably say that if she couldn't make it back on her own, that it's her own darn problem. He was the one who suggested throwing the wounded out of the shuttle, after all. Or maybe he'd just slug her. Bonecrusher's not here, but three of his brothers are. Scrapper, for his part, crosses his arms, raises his shovel defensively, and glares levelly at Inquisitra. In a scolding pedagogic tone, he explains, "Medical safety is never a waste of time," yeah, and Scrapper's one to talk about *that*, "and if you feel that way, you obviously aren't qualified for the task." He casts a glance over at the datapad Hook proffers, and nods agreeably, because everyone knows that fudged values are a critical part of medical safety. "Not good at all." Bah, they want to play that way, no problem. Inquisitra silently activates her DTM--an electrical device. Relatively invisible, but if anyone touches her they get a shock of electricity. But it wont be her fault. She's got Virus Very Yes. How tragic. "Let us hope, then, that We learn from the great Hook. We wouldn't want one of the best spies in the Decepticon Empire to suddenly find out she's carrying some sort of nasty virus or other bad things put in place by the same blasted people who sold me those engines." The scanner suddenly emits a loud beeping, data scrolling up the medbay screens. Yeah, it's a great move to activate your awesome electrical skin when you're having a FULL SYSTEMS SCAN. "Ooooh, power spike" Hook remarks, looking at the data. "Better get the dampeners, Long Haul. Looks like we're going to have to undertake exploratory surgery. That's not good at all. Thoughts, Scrapper?" Scrapper is in a bit of an absent-minded haze, trying to figure out which of the many delightful techs in MSE would make the worst... er... best teacher for poor little Inquisitra. His attention snaps back when Hook starts talking, Boy, it's good he didn't implement that 'auto-ignore Hook' subroutine he was thinking about, isn't it? Scrapper raises a hand to his chin and nods grimly, "Better check that out, yeah. Once we get some kind of grounding or insulation to make the examination safe, of course." Long Haul slams his hand against his forehead with a quieter *clang* than he earlier hit the ground and grumbles a few Cybertronian swears. Of /course/ he couldn't make it through this without having to carry /something/. However, the dampeners aren't that heavy, and thus fetching them doesn't violate Scrapper's 'no steneous activities' instruction. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mutters, heading back to the storage cabinets, heading right to the correct cabinet and grabbing the reqeusted part, continuing to complain under his 'breath' all the while. "A power spike?" quips the interrogator, "It's a good thing you were able to catch that, Hook. We have to admit, We were wrong--we apparently do need a thorough examination after all. We suppose there's simply nothing We can do except obediently submit to your stup--...to your examination. Just mind the Quintesson bits." Inquisitra has Quintesson bits? Now there's a mental image Hook could have done without. "Of course," he replies, though it's not sure if he's talking to Scrapper or his 'patient'. The scan comes to an end, and Hook disengages the safety forcefields so he can approach the table. "Long Haul, apply the dampeners here and here..." Hook points to points on Inquisitra's midsection and leg, "...and attach them to the earthing points. The fussy engineer waits to see if his brother does this properly before he does anything else. "We will, of course, have to disengage your motor and nerve functions," he remarks to Inquisitra. "So you are not... damaged further." Long Haul tilts his head up and eyes Hook warily for a long period of time. After all, it's not at all unlike Hook to stand back and give someone else the dangerous tasks, and while Long Haul wouldn't normally be worried about such things, he's got an upgrade that his systems are still trying to incorporate he and really doesn't want anything to get in the way of that. "Erm..." the transporter says, looking back down at Inquisitra. "Erm..." he repeats, looking back up at Hook before shrugging and giving up, placing the dampeners in place. "Ouch!" he hisses, snapping his hand back as he receives a shock. Too bad Hook didn't tell him to ground the devices BEFORE putting them instead of AFTER. Yeah, good going, genius! Scrapper glances slyly over at Long Haul and says, "Yeah, wouldn't want this to hurt, would we? In fact, I'll go get some sedatives, just in case." And he's not going to knock himself out with the sedatives this time, darnit! That said, Scrapper paces over to the medical cabinets to retrieve some anesthetics. Also some placebos. Depends on how he's feeling at the moment what Inquisitra will get. Each time Long Haul touches the zappy Inquisitra, the femme snaps an 'Ugh!' of her own. Clearly, when Haulk got zapped, so did she, and bits of pretty blue energy crackle over her a bit. But then the fun ends, and she returns to wondering what horrors the Constructicons intend to inflict upon her. "Oh no, We wouldn't want Us to feel any -pain-, now would we. That would be monstrously bad. " Once Long Haul has thoughtfully zapped himself while attaching the dampeners, thus receiving proper punishment for refusing to get a Sonic Screwdriver for Hook earlier, the surgical engineer reaches out and opens an access hatch on the side of Inquisitra's head, attaching his medscanner and quickly disengaging all motor functions below her neck, though not her neural connections. It's up to Scrapper whether or not he wants to administer any sort of anaesthetic. Dammit! Hook did that on purpose! Long Haul's sure of it! The transporter growls softly as he steps back, staying on hand to assist in case his brothers need further help tor- er, giving Inquisitra her check-up, but goes far enough back to be out of their way, all the while trying to think of some way to get Hook back. We'll see if he gets his blue sonic screwdriver now! As supply personnel, Long Haul knows where all the blue screwdrivers are kept, and it's only a minor mattor to re-organize things /just a little/... Scrapper returns with a few bottles and studies Inquisitra. Hrm, so much anaesthesia that she feels like her head has been stuffed with cotton balls or a placebo so she actually feels at the hurty parts of the exam. Choices, choices. He turns the bottles over in his hands thoughtfully and then randomly picks out one. Scrapper then administers the contents. Placebo? Actual anaesthetic? Ah, the chances are fifty/fifty... Although her body no longer works, Inquisitra can, at least, keep track of the Constructicons. A few times she's been tempted to distract herself by dreaming up ways to get back at them--but thanks to the miracles of Holograms combined with her many resources, that shouldn't be a problem. "You sure were correct, Scrapper. These new technologies for repairing perfectly fine Decepticons are -nowhere- in Our records. Perhaps more changed in three Earth years than We thought." "You notice that, Scrapper?" Hook says, picking up a laser scalpel and making an incision, neither knowing or caring whether Scrapper has administered the correct substance. "She refers to herself in the plural. A simple speech processor glitch? Or just a symptom of something far worse?" Long Haul rubs the back of his head, then shrugs. He's really faded into the background at this point, not being a tech himself. Sure, he's got work to do, and more of it piling up by the moment, but /this/ is far more interesting then work, so he sticks around, leaning absently against the nearest empty meditable as he does. "Yeah, I noticed that. And her chronometer's off. It's been six years," Scrapper observes absently, playing with the now empty bottle in his hands. Idly, he reads aloud, "Side effects..." After a snarl of pain, complete with curses and insults bitten off before they can get too far, Inquisitra offers 'helpfully', glaring through ignited optics and a voice of rage and pain, "The voices are caused by the Quintessons. The time difference..." Well, time doesn't pass the same in space, so THERE! HA! "...That would be a malfunction," she admits, and howls again in pain at Hook poking about her innards with sharp things, unable to stop him. Hook hmmms. "And she seems to be screaming for no good reason. Must be these "voices" she's talking about. If I had the time, I'd suggest a full lasercore examination - but to do that properly could take.. well, as long as it takes to do it correctly." Which, knowing Hook, could be a very long time indeed. "However" he continues after a significant pause, what I /could/ do is adjust her vocaliser so that while the incorrect word is still being transmitted by her core, the unit will self correct, and use the singular term." He smirks. "Though once more I lack the time to perform a /complete/ linguistic overhaul, a simple filter should suffice... say one that would replace "we" and "our" with the word "me" instead....?" Hook gives Scrapper a questioning look. "...vivid hallucinations. But surely a few pink Seekers in hula skirts are worth taking the edge off the pain, eh?" he finishes, finally setting the bottle down, away, and out of sight. Of course, it could be a bottle of placebo. Scrapper could be making this up. "And, my misguided Trainee, timespace may be mutable, but you're currently in a reference frame where your knowledge is six years out of date." He looks over at Hook, head tilted to one side, and answers, "That's treating the symptoms rather than the disease, but if you feel all right with doing a mere jerry-rig like that..." Long Haul stops leaning against the table to stand upright, rubbing his hands together as he watches. Not that he's doing anything to contribute, but there's something wonderful about watching his brothers perform on their home turf like this. Of course, any medical bay anywhere in the Empire is Constructicon turf, even the turf of the less technically inclined members like Long Haul. That'll learn her! Well, probably not, but hey, it's still fun to witness. Inquisitra isn't very easy to learn, that's for sure. She still has revenge on her agenda. Oh yes, she'll get them back. "Leave the core alone and just...fiddle around util you're satisfied you've 'fixed' me so I can get on with my assignment!" she grumbles, "All of this for not wanting to admit you stepped on a shuttle." Her glare remains set on Hook. Yep, he'll get it worst of all. Mostly cause Scrapper's too high ranked to mess with, and Long Haul...Well, no reason to not get him, too. Long Haul actually chuckles out loud. "You really think this is about the damned shuttle now? Look, we built that shuttle, we'll fix that shuttle, and we'll no doubt build more. We don't really give a slag about the shuttle, although since /you/ wanna keep makin' an issue of it, we'll have ta keep that in mind next time we're given' the choice to letchew go splat or break a slagging shuttle." Then he crosses his arms and goes back to leaning against his meditable. Too bad Hook is also the most AWESOME of the Constructicons. "Shh" Hook says, disconnecting Inquisitra's vocaliser. She just said 'fix me' not 'fix us'. Huh. Hook's so amazing that his repairs have rippled back in time! With a few deft movements, he removes the casing and attaches a cable to the vocalising processor. Deftly, he begins to program, setting up a filter to change all instances of the words "we", "our" and "us" to be replaced with the word "me". And just to be on the safe side, he makes it easy to reverse and delete. Provided one has the password of course. "Theeeere we go," he says, replacing the casing. "That's one problem... well, improved in any case." Scrapper just leans back and watches Hook work. He's not being lazy per se; it's just that if he actually got get hands dirty he'd want to start removing vital parts and calling them art supplies. Ah, the burden of an artist is so terrible. Scrapper drawls dryly, "Not perfected? I'm shocked, Hook." Unable to speak, Inquisitra can just silently fume, as Hook screws with her innards. Yeah, nothing's going to be quite mean enough to get him back for this, she can see this going on for a while. Ha. Maybe she should break him somehow so he can't merge. That'll learn him. Just like he's learnin' her just how much she doesn't like Constructicons! Well, that's okay. The Constructicons aren't out to be liked. Especially not by Inquisitra. And she may find her life made even more difficult if she were to find a way to break one of the most potent weapons the Empire possesses because, assuredly, Devastator is still very much that. But that's all neither here nor there. Long Haul, for his part, has returned to playing 'silent goon.' He's actually very good at that. It's probably why Swindle wants to hire him for the purpose. Still, there's something about his body language that indicates that he's enjoying watching his brothers play with Inquisitra's circuitry very much. "Do /you/ perhaps require your audials checked also, brother mine?" Hook inquires of Scrapper tetchily. "As I said - it is not perfect. It is not a complete vocabulary filter. Thus, the situation has been /improved/." He sniffs. "Unlike /some/ mechs, I am able to tell the difference." He turns back to Inquisitra and randomly prods a wire with his now-deactivated scalpel, as if fixing something else, then reactivates her vocaliser, quickly re-sealing her exterior armor. "There. Done.. for now. Though I'm sure you will another checkup in the future..." If she insults the skills, talent and combat ability of the Constructicons again, that is. He smirks at Inquisitra. "Well, unless one of my brothers has something more to add, you can run along now. I'm sure you've got plenty of things to do... /Trainee/." Yes, one last turn of the screw. "I'm just surprised you settled for anything less than 'perfection', is all," Scrapper snaps back, doing the air quotes. He doesn't have anything else to add and returns to pondering MSE rosters. Inquisitra bolts upright almost immediately in her demand to get away from the crazy Doctor Hook. "Me do indeed have things to attend to, and Me choose to put seeing to it that Me are once again elevated to where me should be as top priority. Now that Me are 'fixed', " with finger quote things, "We will be on our way." Her optics remain activated, and since she now has control over her body again she quickly activates her DTM once again. Long Haul seems to brighten up considerably with Inquisitra's departing comments. In fact, he can't help but chuckle a little. But now, with the fun over, it's time for him to get back to work. And, since he's still on light-limited, work is... paperwork. Oh, and relocating all the blue sonic screwdrivers in the Empire. Slaggin' Hook. Long Haul vanishes out of reality. Long Haul has left.